Light
by Tavin Wilhelm
Summary: The War against the Scourge, told from the views of a young half-elf Argent Dawn officer and a battle-worn Scarlet Crusade warrior. From beginning to end, experience the war. R/R!


It was cold.

Dark.

Lifeless.

A dull throbbing sensation filled the back of Tavin's mind as he slowly regained consciousness. White hot stars danced across his vision as he attempted to open them, but forcibly shut them again as bright light exploded across his sight, blinding her quickly.

"It was my understanding that a Crusader always fights to their dying breath.

The human shivered with trideptation at the icy voice. So tainted and full of malice. Years worth of hate, betrayal and murder funneled into one tone, all masked by a layer of arrogance. Tavin forced his eyes open again, staring at the days worth symbol of her anguish.

Lifeless, white hair hung in damp strings around an ashen face, blue eyes as cold as his heart boring into Tavin with a hint of interest. Pallid lips were twisted into a cruel smirk on a visage that was perhaps once very handsome. Spiked and unyielding armor was adorned with dark skulls that seemed to mock him with their agape mouths. Pitted, black eyes stared down at Tavin with amusement. Thick boots were placed on either side of him, trapping him below his captor while the deadly tip of a blade was inches from his neck.

Thassarian stared down at the man.

Low brown bangs hung over bright blue eyes that pierced anything they gazed upon. A strong jaw and chiseled lips would perhaps make him flawlessly handsome if were not for the pockmarked cheeks and thin scars that marred his face. A small lump raised the bridge of his nose ever so slightly, a tell tale sign of being broken at least once. The tips of three of his fingers were missing while half of his left ring finger was gone all together. Part of his ear was shot off and scars littered most of his body. Features.. they mattered little to him.

"Get up."

Supine in his own blood, Tavin feebly raised his blade with a burning arm. Scarred fingers curled around the bloodied hilt, another set of digits planted themselves against the cold floor, forcing a battered body upwards. The weakened human steadied himself and brought his sword forward, readying his combat stance. The man quickly glanced around at the numerous parts of his armor discarded around the small veranda.

A fine corset of mail shone like ice in the corner, marred with dots of blood and a large tear down the side. A dented helmet lay on its side in a small pool of blood, inches from a set of ripped, leather gloves. Left with very little protection, from both blade and elements, Tavin shivered in the numbing wind. It rippled across his sweaty skin, adding to the coldness that already gripped his heart like a set of frozen talons.

The warriors two lingered there for a few seconds, both passive in the breeze. Each moment seemed like an eternity to the human, his thundering heartbeats only adding to the prolonging of time. Although he sought to form some plan of escaping, or at least besting his captor, he found none. Tavin's mind was a fog, gripped by the same terror that now made his heart pound furiously in her chest.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Sword met blade in a harsh screeching of metal, sparks cascading in the wind with an impressive display of light. Thassarian's face was quickly lit by the act, giving him the countenance of a haunted being. The shadows were endless along his jawline and brow, briefly showing the effect time had on his dark soul... if he still had one.

Tavin stumbled back from the force of the attack, barely raising his sword again before another blow rang out across the small arena. This one knocked his to the ground again, the unforgiving floor rushing up to meet his failure. Hard saronite knocked the wind from his lungs, sending red sparks flying across his vision painfully. Tavin gulped in the freezing air, attempting to recover from the fall.

"So pitiful."

A thick glob of spit landed on Tavin's scratched cheek. The saliva burned as it rolled across his skin, accumulating blood and filth with it as it went.

"Kill me." he asked, his voice was low and rough.

"You know what it takes to be released."

"No. I. D-

"YES YOU DO!" came the roaring statement, cutting off his halting statement. Tavin winced as he heard the sound of rushing air, but could do little, especially dodge, as a hard boot connected with his ribcage. The human half flew, half skidded across the veranda, landing against the railing with a series of small snaps and pops. Some of the noises came from his armor, the others... from his body.

Tavin grunted audibly, fingering at least two broken ribs on his left side. His breaths began to come in short, ragged pulls as he forced himself upwards. Thassarian took a few steps towards Tavin, his blade pointed downwards for once. He surveyed Tavin with a mixture of distaste and disgust, his bright blue eyes as sharp as daggers as they looked upon him. The human returned the gaze with an equal amount of hostility. He would not be broken. As the Death Knight began to advance on Tavin again, he edged away.

"The last two anchors in life to Alexandros Mograine are some of the most valuable items exsisting. They allow his spirit to still return on occasion and prevent certain things from occurring, such as the Scourge leaders understanding the way the Ashbringer works. The Ashbringer itself is one such anchor, yet the other remains unknown.. at least to us. The Scarlet Crusade hides such an artifact and reveals its location only to certain, key members of their upper echelon." Thassarian began to the long winded speech, pausing only to look at Tavin as the last word left his mouth.

"That is where you come in." he stated, a cruel smirk playing back onto his lips. "Where is it.?" he asked, drawing close to her.

"I don't know-"

"LIAR!" the furious Knight shouted, cutting Tavin off again. A sudden backhand sent the crusader sprawling on the cold ground. The winded human spit up a few globs of blood, keeping his face down turned.

Suddenly, "Enough, Thassarian."

He sensed the Death Knight halting in his tracks. The voice itself made Tavin shiver inwardly, worse than he did at his captor's tainted voice. And yet, it sounded oddly familiar. As the man looked up with careful eyes, his breath hitched as he caught sight of who stood before him.

Garbed and appearing much like the other Death Knight behind him, yet striking a much more intimidating pose was perhaps the last being Tavin expected to see alive. Behind him lingered a weapon perhaps as evil as it's owner.

The human gaped in stunned silence.

"Your not supposed.."

"To be what?" he asked. "Alive? Hardly." he sneered and waved a hand behind him, motioning to the Plaguelands and coastline that lay below. Tavin's eyes briefly flickered with each motion.

"To be here?" he titled his head back, drawing a deep laugh from inside, the thick, demonically tainted voice echoing off the curved walls.

"I'm home aren't I?" he said, evidently enjoying himself.

But, in an instant, his smirk vanished, replaced by a fierce frown as he moved to Tavin bringing his face within an inch of his. The man reflexively tried to inch backwards as slow fear clutched at his heart strings. Tavin swallowed deeply, contemplating what lie in store for him over the next few moments. Suddenly his enemy's hand shot forth seizing Tavin by the shoulder and half-dragging, half-tossing him against the nearest pillar allowing him no where to go. Tavin's ribs and broken bones screamed in protest.

He brought his face close again and slowly whispered, "You have something I want and need... Do not toy with me." his nauseating breath washed over him, smelling just like, if not worse, than his minions scouring the land below them. The human attempted to move his head away from the smell but his enemy only forced Tavin to look at him. Icy blue eyes grazed the depths of his soul as he brought his face closer.

"Where. Is. The. Artifact." said he, ever so softly, stretching the question out so his voice grew softer with each word. The last word was almost a whisper, causing Tavin to almost involuntarily strain to hear it. A few silent moments passed by as a hard lump developed in the human's constricted throat, not allowing any words to pass out from between his scraped lips. Finally, he shook his head to the slightest extent, trying to place every bit of defiance behind the movement.

His enemy roared loudly at his rebellious silence and grabbed a fistful of Tavin's grungy hair with his plated hand, dragging him painfully to the stone railing of the alcove balcony. The human was shoved against it harshly, forcing him to gaze out upon the land. Trapped between two unyielding surfaces he had no choice but to look

The once green coastline of the Scarlet Crusade was now a burning pitch of weltering stench. Lifeless Scourge soldiers roamed the land mindlessly, either bored with themselves or searching for any survivors that perhaps had managed to escape the undead wrath that was now so heavily impressed upon them. Any bands of ragged warriors that appeared in defiance were cut down quickly and viciously; what was left of their bodies was too mangled to even recognize them. A single tear finally dripped down Tavin's face as he looked on with sorrow. Only days ago he had somehow escaped the same fate, saved only by the rank that was gilded on his tabard and breastplate. The human was forced to watch as his guards and brothers-in-arms were slaughtered and he was subdued. In the time between now and then, he had experienced endless torture at the hands of Thassarian, the Death Knight. When he passed out or became to ill to continue interrogation, he would use dark magics and Scourge priests to revive and heal him before continuing with his evil doings.

"Do you see what happens to those who resist and tempt me?" the Lich King asked, bringing Tavin out of her reverie and back to the present. The question almost sounded rhetorical. "And yet, those weren't even in my proximity." he pointed out, yanking Tavin's bloodied face around to face his. "You are." he pushed the man a bit over the balcony, as if to emphasize his point. Tavin's back hovered in the cool breeze for a moment, his eyes briefly drifting to the side and glancing downwards at the fall he would experience from such enormous heights.

His voice grew unnaturally cold now.

"You will submit."

All went black.

* * *

><p>Why we fight...<p>

This was the thoughtful question of the day that probed at Aydeline's mind as she stood atop a decaying knoll, the sound of preparing soldiers drilling and packing drifting through her ears from the fortified chapel behind her. Every now and then the booming voice of an officer would ring out across the small area. The paladin sighed and picked at a knotted strap from her armor, gazing out over the Plaguelands. She clenched and unclenched her shaking hand which always shook as a battle approached, just a habit she involuntarily had inherited. The thick yellowish haze hung over the cursed land like a deathly fog.

She had long since become accustomed to the ever present, god forsaken smell of the sickly lands, but she still smiled to herself as she watched new recruits arrive from various capitols and wrinkle their noses at the smell, of which they had not become accustomed to it. Every time she made such a thought, however, she would quickly rectify herself by acknowledging the recruits would quickly become used to it as well. Although this was no prison, once you arrived to Light's Hope Chapel you did not leave; especially now since the "Scourge War", as it had been coined, was now in full drive. All the Argent Dawn awaited now was an opportunity to make their first invasion.

Aydeline shook her head slightly, trying to get her starlight hair un-plastered from her head after wearing a helmet for so long. I don't foresee that happening anytime soon she thought darkly. It was common knowledge the ratio of Scourge to soldiers in the area and the fact that they were, indeed, vastly outnumbered. Lately the half-elf had resorted to thinking of what they truly had that the Scourge did not. More often, the things she did come up with were only weaknesses that living beings unfortunately possessed.

With another audible sigh, Aydeline extracted her thoughts from such dark subjects and focused back on looking at the Plaguelands. The land was forsaken, overly hot and humid in some areas then suddenly frigid cold in others. No clouds rolled across the area yet when rain fell it came form seemingly no where, the droplets a sickly yellow mixed with red sometimes. Raining blood was one of the many fear factors that encompassed living within the former lands of Lordaeron.

The paladin absentmindedly reached down to her belt and pulled up the medium sized tome that was chained to her bodice. The front cover was made of metal, the silver insignia of the Argent Dawn was wrought onto its front. With a small click, Aydeline opened the book, the weathered parchment pages ruffling themselves in the chilling wind. With dull interest, she examined the first pages which were written in her own handwriting from years back. They were notes on the simple rules of understanding and using magic, namely of the holy branch. All magic came from a persons own bodily energy and casting a spell required the use of said energy. You could only perform a certain task with magic if you had it within your strength and energy level to do it by mundane means, essentially. Additionally, all spells were bound to the mortal world by words of grammar in the elven language. As the elves, high, blood or night, were all creatures of magic, so was their language. The high elven dictionary was the most common used for spellwork due to its originality and closeness to the original words. Being half high elf herself, Aydeline knew a lot of the language already.

Aydeline smiled as she rembered learning all the rules and her own eagerness to cast her first spell. Of course, it had ended in near disaster. She had attempted to heal a wound too large for her to handle alone and had nearly lost her life in the process. Thankfully a nearby teacher, and healer, had seen this and quickly assisted Aydeline's task, allowing her to complete it with help. From this she had learned two vital rules to casting spells. Never use absolutes and if you cannot succeed or use to big of a spell, you will die.

Aydeline almost chuckled at the thought of once not being able to heal a simple broken bone. Now her reach of spellwork was at a commendable level but recently her pursuit of knowledge had been stymied by the rising activity of the Scourge. Much to everyone's displeasure, fear and terror, a necropolis had appeared days ago over the coastline. In some sort of relief, they had all realized it was over Scarlet Crusader lands. Although the two pursued similar objectives, the Crusade's zealotry had isolated itself from the other users of the Light.

"Aydeline!"

The young officer wheeled around at the sounding voice, surprised to find Eligor Dawnbringer walking towards her. The Commander's golden armor gleamed in the pale light that issued from the sky above, his weathered face hidden behind a mask of no emotion. Unsure if her superior was angry or merely seeking conversation, Aydeline detached herself from the decaying knoll she had been standing on and walked towards Eligor.

"Yes?" the half-elf asked in a neutral tone as she reached the Commander. She was not seeking to raise Eligor's ire this early in the day.

He smiled, surprisingly, and beckoned for the youthful officer to follow him back towards the Chapel. "With the ever impending doom of a Scourge invasion looming over our hearts and minds, I thought to show you something valuable that might inspire you slightly. I know how your morale and spirit drive the men you command so, I sought to raise such spirits." he said in a low tone as they walked.

Glad that Eligor was not seeking strife, Aydeline forced her previous smile to reappear onto her pale face. "I appreciate the thought." she said truthfully, continuing to follow Eligor back towards the small hold. The duo slid inside and immediately took a left, disappearing into a small cupboard. Eligor reached down and revealed a small trapdoor leading to some sorts of a cellar.

Taking a torch from the nearby bracket in the wall, the Commander led the way down. "Watch your step." he called out as Aydeline followed him into the pitch black darkness.

"Where are we?" Aydeline asked aloud, her voice echoing off the walls. All she could see was the shimmering beacon of light that was the torch.

Eligor dipped the torch and touched it to something in the dark. In a sudden flare of yellow flames, a whole section of the passage was brightly illuminated as fire was ignited down the passage. The half-elf peered down into the troughs that lined the walls and saw they were filled to the brim with lamp oil. Look around now, the younger paladin realized they were in an undercroft. Eligor walked to the other side of the passage and lit it up before placing the torch into a bracket on the wall.

"I was among a very select few chosen for a secret task" the Commander began, beckoning to her as they began walking down the musky corridor. "It was after that damned traitor Arthas killed his father, our beloved king, and the Scourge rampaged through Lordaeron.." he stopped and pointed to a long row of very old wooden coffins, which numbered in the hundreds, if thousands.

Aydeline gaped at the sheer number of coffins wondering how they were preserved so well over the ages. "It was decided that our honored dead must not be left behind, abandoned only to later bolster the ranks of the Lich King's army. And so, we took the bodies out of the cemeteries and the catacombs: Bodies of the warriors, priests, paladins…" he stopped and placed a hand on one of the coffins "Champions of battles long past and we transported them here, to this small out-of-the-way chapel where we interred them once more in sacred ground." he swept a hand around the area. "A thousand of the bravest souls to walk the earth, yet should they fall into the hands of the Scourge.." he glanced at them, pausing on a note of unbridled fear of something that could become.

"They would be raised in the Lich King's service.." Aydeline finished his sentence for him. The thought of such powerful men and women raised as servants to the Lich King was, indeed, a morbid thought. Such creations under the Scourge would be the undoing of many lives.

Eligor nodded, "Yes. Cogs in an unstoppable machine of destruction."

The half-elf paused and glanced around the undercroft yet again, the heat from the fires warming her face.

Eligor took the lull in the conversation to glance over the younger officer, noting how she was maturing. Aydeline had only been nearly sixteen seasons old when her elven mother had died from illness that had gripped her for nearly two years. Her human father was a legendary warrior among the 7th legion and was always away in combat, thus making Aydeline nearly an orphan after her mother's death. Unfortunately for the young girl, her father was either killed or captured in a battle against the Ahn'qiraj shortly after, making her a true orphan at the time of the report. The bright haired girl was placed in the Stormwind Orphanage and stayed there 'till her fortieth season where she was offered to become either an altar girl for the Argent Dawn or a squire for the Stormwind Army. Both factions recognized women involvement and welcomed any with open arms.

Surprisingly, Aydeline did not follow in her fathers footsteps. She became an altar runner with the Argent Dawn and traveled with them until the age of fifty-six seasons where she was finally admitted into the ranks. Having been a tomboy and an outcast for nearly all her life, regardless of his fathers name, Aydeline had learned swordplay and many other vital survival skills in private on her own. Excelling above most her age, Aydeline quickly grew in the ranks of the Paladin order. By the age of seventy-six seasons she was instated as an Officer of the faction, a move that shocked many. Since then her fame had grown and now she marshaled at least a fifth of the Argent Dawn's forces.

Although many looked upon Aydeline and believed her to have no flaws, Eligor had nearly raised the girl himself. He knew Aydeline's fear of outshining her father, her anger problems against herself and her insecurity of not being the best at tasks he performed. Often times, Eligor had caught Aydeline looking upon groups of rich women with a bit of jealousy. Having had to deal with the emotions many of times, Eligor recognized any of the three the moment they began to arise. Regardless of her fame amongst the order, and even through the Alliance, Eligor still knew the shade that hid in her closet.

Eligor now unfocused a bit and just glanced over Aydeline's features.

By many standards, Aydeline was beautiful in a sense of way. She didn't have the enthralling looks of a regal high elf but she was also fairer than any human woman could dare to be. Bright blue eyes, soft lips and high cheekbones gave the impression that she was a lady of the court, and not a warrior. The only thing that marred her appearance was a few visible scars on her arms and neckline, which Eligor caught many of soldiers staring at much to often. Her starlight hair was longer than most would keep, but was usually pulled in a tight ponytail, or left to hang under her helmet. Under the armor was a lithe frame etched with muscles. Curves were definitely existent in vital areas but the elf's body was at the peak of fitness. Eligor sighed and ran a hand through his own sandy hair, looking away now at the coffin's that lined the dusky walls. Cobwebs dotted many of them.

Suddenly a battle horn sounded above them.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

The last note rang across the region, notifying all of only one thing to come.

War.

Eligor's eyes lit up and his fingers curled inwards. "The hour has come." he finally sighed, closing his eyes with a quick prayer.

"Let us meet our host."

Aydeline hauled herself up the latter with utmost haste, jumping clean over the last three rings before landing in the Chapel with a loud set of clanks from her plate armor. From the nearby table she grabbed his shield and sword from earlier, belting the scabbard and tossing the shield over her shoulder for the moment being. Lastly, she grabbed her visored helmet, thrusting it on her head and buckling the leather chinstrap.

Out into the cold air the half-elf went, obligating as she went to nearby soldiers and lesser officer's. The small force that made the Argent Dawn's army had formed a protective ring around the aging Chapel, armored paladins in front with weapons ready, while a contingency of marksman lingered on hills behind the group. Their bows were tensed.

No feeble women and children existed, only warriors ready to defend their cause and exterminate the Plague of Azeroth.

Aydeline took her place directly at the front of the line, nodding at several of her sergeants. They nodded back, their eyes lighting up slightly with relief. They had long since become accustomed to a woman's leadership. Now, they reveled in it and were bolstered by her presence.

All was silent. A few soldiers shifted nervously along the line, tightening their armor straps or rotating their weapons with an air of unease. Aydeline gave steadying looks to some of them, especially those barely of age. They stared at her with a sense of confusion, their young faces filled with fear of what was to come.

They all waited as the wind blew across their faces, bringing a chill and the sound of a whispering voice with it.

Then suddenly-

"Soldiers of the Scourge, stand ready!" a sudden powerful voice shouted, commanding those unseen. "You will soon be able to unleash your fury upon the Argent Dawn!"

Several shivered at the tainted voice. Aydeline recognized it as that of a Death Knight, the Lich King's lieutenant. Unfortunately, she doubted only one resided in the force that would be soon invading them. A fog had suddenly settled over the area, limiting the field of view to the first set of trees in every direction.

Suddenly, something splattered onto Aydeline's helmet, like rain.

She reached her hand up and wiped the forefront of her helmet which was slick with something; bringing her hand down, she found his fingertips stained with red blood that was raining from the sky. Aydeline grimaced at this, she was used to it; nevertheless it was always unnerving. A few of the Argent Dawn soldiers cried out in dismay as they too discovered blood was raining on their heads.

"Soldiers of the Light!" Aydeline suddenly shouted, tossing the challenge over her soldier. The half-elf's starlight hair was down to her shoulders, giving her the impression of a fearless lion's mane. "Stand ready against the Scourge, for today, we will stand our ground!" she yelled. The half-elf noticed many eyes upon her, many seeking a source of strength in this dark time.

"Soldiers of the Scourge, death knights of Acherus, minions of the darkness: hear the call of the Highlord!" The icy death knight roared.

"Warriors of the Argent Dawn, Paladins of the Brotherhood!" Aydeline shouted, matching the Scourge leaders words. She raised her voice with each syllable. She began walking up the line, earning every single gaze of each and every soldier. "Defenders of the Light, hear the call of your brother!" Some banged their shields feebly or raised their swords in a weak effort of morale.

"RISE!" the death knight roared.

Aydeline grimaced as a cold gust of wind ripped through the area. She could feel the dark magic it carried.

The young officer turned to the men, shoving her sword into the air.

"RISE!" she yelled, screaming loudly to the men, placing all her strength and spirit into the statement.

Every man did the same, roaring a fearsome battle shout, pumping their fists in the air and clanging their armored fists against their breastplates. She felt the morale change pitch like the temper of a blade. Aydeline repeated the war cry two more times until each and every man banged steel against steel. The result was a cacophony of metal that sparked a primal aspect of excitement in Aydeline's soul.

"TODAY!" Aydeline yelled, eyes wild as she began walking past each man.

"We will defy the Scourge, we WILL stand our ground! Do not falter men, for they will not, so we will not either! Tear these beasts of death limb from limb! Allow them no mercy as they would allow us none!" Aydeline roared in a commanding voice.

"The skies turn red with the blood of the fallen! The Lich King watches over us, minions" The death knight yelled. "Onward! Leave only ashes and misery in your destructive wake!" he suddenly ordered. Aydeline's blood chilled as she understood the order. With a bracing prayer, the half-elf turned upon the foggy treeline.

"War is upon us men!" Aydeline yelled. "STAND READY!" she roared once more, her battle shout echoing in the bleak sky.

Aydeline fell back into the line, taking her place next to a weathered veteran who cradled his large war mace.

He glanced at Aydeline with a bit of concern, saying "You should fall back behind the line ma'am, so you can better command us."

Aydeline looked to the man. Blood was beginning to run off her helmet and onto her face. "My place is beside my men, I command you best here"

The larger man nodded and returned his attention to the front.

"Scourge armies approach!" someone suddenly yelled.

"Stand fast, brothers and sisters! The Light will prevail!" Aydeline heard some yell.

From the trees came sudden dark shapes, moving quickly.

Through the bloodied fog and rain came bursting through a wall of Scourge minions of every type, skeletal constructs, rotting zombies, bumbling abominations. Some moved, stumbled or gaited with a variety of odd limbs. Many were missing flesh, bones or limbs altogether. Lucky ones carried rusty and broken weapons in their unfeeling hands. The only thing they all seemed to possess was the same set of pit less, black eyes and an air of death on their breaths.

"Spare no one!" the same voice suddenly yelled, the figure to match the voice bursting through the fog himself.

Upon horseback were four intimidating figures, all clad in spiked dark armor and wielding enormous jagged blades which thrummed with unholy power. They each wore a different earthly color, ebony capes of velvet billowing behind them like black smoke. The warhorses they rode upon galloped forward with such speed they knocked over some Scourge in the process. Ignoring them, the Death Knights each raise an icy sword upon the feeble force of Paladin's that defied them.

The lead one carried a blade Aydeline knew every Argent soldier would recognize.

Long and broad, but elegant in the death knight's hand, was the Ashbringer, famed blade of Highlord Mograine himself. Once a legendary warrior of the Light, but was now a fallen leader for the Scourge having been murdered brutally by his own son. Many spat when that particular part of the story was told. Forevermore, the name Renault carried a haunted meaning.

However, the Ashbringer looked oddly different in his plated was much darker and glowed with a sinister green light, instead of a pure golden one. Where a golden disk once floated, embossed with the Silver Hand, was now a carved white skull that seemed to embody the Scourge with one symbol.

They tainted the blade.. The half-elf thought with a surge of anger. Such action defied the nature of life.

She grimaced, vowing revenge on the fallen Highlord.

Time slowed in the moment before the wall of Scourge crashed into them. Aydeline saw the mindless fury etched on each of her enemies faces. No emotion or resolve existed in their timeless features. Only hate, fury and will to serve their master remained.

Aydeline ducked and swung quickly as several Scourge came flying at her, scrabbling wildly at her in blind anger. A few detached fingers flew past his face.

She brought her blade around, slicing easily through a handful of Scourge with each swipe of her blade, but as a small path opened up merely two more Scourge filled up each spot for each one Scourge that had fallen. The sheer numbers they faced threatened to break many soldier's wills.

Aydeline cursed lowly and dove into her mind, breeching through the veil that separated her from the energy that flowed through her veins. In an instant, the half-elf felt the magic just within her reach and she whispered "Anar'zaram". The holy magic surged up through her hands and into her blade, causing it to glow with a golden light, thrumming with unyielding power.

Aydeline yelled ferociously and attacked the Scourge with a frenzy, her light filled blade decimating all that lay before her, allowing only a few Scourge to actually attack the half-elf, of which she deflected them off her shield with ease, slamming the wall of metal into their feeble frames.

Aydeline suddenly grinned for no reason, her face now covered with blood that had been falling heavily from the sky. Everything around the half-elf was stained red with the unholy rain. A crimson mist had appeared over the battlefield, carrion crows beginning to form in their tight circles. Soon, they would all descend.

Aydeline chopped through another few Scourge, suddenly seeing straight through the wall of lumbering abominations and scourge an opportunity to strike at the Scourge's leader, of whom was swinging the Ashbringer at any Argent soldiers who dared charge him themselves. Many who had attempted already lay dead at the Death Knight's feet.

Courage surging upwards, Aydeline took the opportunity while the knight was looking away and charged him herself. She covered the short yards quickly and jumped upwards, ducking her plate covered shoulder in and lunging at the knight, tackling him viciously off his steed. The two landed in the mud with a wet squelch, some of the debris blinded Aydeline momentarily.

The Death Knight's skeletal horse neighed wildly and charged off, leaving Aydeline and the Knight alone.

Aydeline recovered quickly, but with little luck as the Scourge leader was faster. He roared and raised the blade high into the pale sky, bringing it down towards Aydeline's exposed form with all the judgment in the world.

The half-elf winced and braced herself, trying to get up still, but watched in awe as about halfway from her the blade jerked and ripped itself from one of the death knight's hands. The Death Knight stumbled away and looked upon the blade with a mixture of confusion and anger.

Aydeline took the chance and swiftly got back on her feet, weapons raised, life having just been saved by an odd miracle. She stared at the undead man with a guarded expression, watching as he tried to regain control of his glowing weapon.

"Ashbringer defies me…" the Death Knight muttered to himself before tossing his gaze over his shoulder. "Minions, come to my aid!" he shouted desperately, drawing the attention of several nearby Scourge animations.

The creatures charged the half-elf their mindless limbs swinging angrily at Aydeline, of which he lopped them off easily, sidestepping around them only to find the Knight again lunging at her. She had taken the flow blown distraction, easily walking into it.

Aydeline made a quick notion to remove her thin blade from one of the Scourge limbs to deflect the blow, but to her sudden dismay it was wedged deep in the decaying bone. How the limb still withheld such hardiness, she didn't know. All that mattered was it was about to result in her downfall.

The young leader steeled herself again knowing this time she wouldn't be so lucky. With a quick prayer, she raised her thick shield and steadied her legs, preparing for the blow.

But..

The Ashbringer ripped itself again away from Aydeline, throwing the Death Knight off.

"You will do as I command! I am in control here!" he roared with fury, trying to bring the thrumming blade back around to cleave Aydeline. Slightly dazed at the turn of events, the half-elf had forgotten about her own weapons and merely stood there as the sword came swooshing at her.

But the blade turned suddenly downward in the death knights hand, burying itself in the wet ground next to the Knight. He yelled in anguish and planted his massive feet in the sticky mud, straining with all his might to make the sword obey his command. Aydeline bayed away slightly, her shield dropping from it's defensive position.

"What is this? My... I cannot strike…" the knight muttered. His voice was now devoid of anger and rage, instead replaced with confusion and dismay. Fear too, if possible.

Suddenly a thick war horn sounded from behind the two, drawing both their attentions to a figure who was rapidly approaching the battle on horseback at breakneck speed.

From out of the bloody fog burst a man in golden armor on the back of a proud chestnut warhorse. His features emitted pure strength and power, from the bulky muscles underneath layers of armor to the deep scars and lines etched into the man's body, displaying his experience. The only sign of aging on the paladin's body were the weathered grey beard on his face and the vast, wise eyes he possessed.

Aydeline instantly recognized the figure.

Tirion Fordring, a man of legends. One of the original Knight's of the Silver Hand, said to be second only to Uther the Lightbringer in his faith and command of the light. Little had been heard of him since a befuddled and unfair dis-communication discerning a act of kindness to a member of the Horde. To be in his presence filled Aydeline's once tightened heart with renewed strength. She felt the weariness ebb from her limbs.

Tirion charged straight for the two and at the last moment yanked his reigns up, his horse kicking the Death Knight back, knocking the death knight down into the bloodied ground with a spray of muddy water.

"You cannot win, Darion!" Tirion stated loudly, jumping off his Chestnut horse. The ground shook from his impact.

The battle had suddenly stopped as the man arrived. Most of the Light defenders had narrowly decimated the Scourge's mindless force, loosing many of their own men.

With a painful expression of one realizing defeat, the Death Knight rose and fell to a knee.

"Stand down, death knights. We have lost" he said, bitter anguish evident in his voice. He glanced around quietly "... The Light... This place... No hope…"

He bowed his head before Fordring, plainly showing his submission.

The powerful man's eyes burned vigorously, his mouth set in a thin line as he walked up to the kneeling knight.

"Have you learned nothing, boy?" he asked gazing upon the kneeling man with evident disappointment. "You have become all that your father fought against! Like that coward, Arthas, you allowed yourself to be consumed by the darkness and the hate, feeding upon the misery of those you tortured and killed!"

Tirion pointed a gauntleted finger towards the Chapel behind them, saying "Your master knows what lies beneath the chapel. It is why he dares not show his face! He's sent you and your death knights to meet their doom, Darion."

Darion glanced up at Tirion, evident malice in his eyes, but now a cloudy spot of confusion touched his burning eyes.

Tirion saw this and pointed straight at the Death Knight's armored chest, What you are feeling right now is the anguish of a thousand lost souls!" he stated. "Souls that you and your master brought here!" he crouched down in front of Darion, brining his face daringly close. "The Light will tear you apart, Darion" he said rigidly.

Darion sneered, showing for a moment his bit of defiance. "Save your breath, old man. It might be the last you ever draw." he snarled daringly.

Before Tirion could reply, a sudden burst of light illuminated the area, a ghastly figure appearing at the bottom of the hill at the end of the stone trail that lead up to the Chapel's doors. Clad in sparkling blue armor, wearing an emblazoned silver tabard, was Alexandros Mograine himself, his namesake glowing brightly in his hand.

His eyes fell upon Darion, to which they widened and lit up with joy, "My son! My dear, beautiful boy!" he cried out. He plunged the Ashbringer in the ground and extended his arms wide, offering reconciliation to Darion in his warm embrace.

"Father!" Darion answered with a choking sob, but as he went to take a step towards his father he seized back, grabbing his chest painfully. "Argh...what...is…" he fell to a knee, a sudden ghastly figure to match Alexandros' appearing in front of Darion depicting a younger version of himself. Darion here looked as if he had just reached manhood, sprouts of stubble appearing on his narrow chin.

"Father, you have returned!" Darion's shade cried out, running to his father's embrace. The voice from the image was less tainted and more full of youthful excitement. Aydeline cringed at the change.

Alexandros swept Darion up in a loving hug, laughing joyfully with his boy.

Darion looked at his father with an expression of longing. "You have been gone a long time, father. I thought…" he began, but was kindly silenced by his father's reassuring words:

"Nothing could have kept me away from here, Darion. Not from my home and family" he replied firmly, setting Darion back down on the ground.

Darion gazed up at his father, "Father, I wish to join you in the war against the undead. I want to fight! I can sit idle no longer!" His will and spirit reminded Aydeline much of herself. She had pleaded this argument with Eligor thrice before. Unlike Darion, however, she had won.

Alexandros shook his head, "Darion Mograine, you are barely of age to hold a sword, let alone battle the undead hordes of Lordaeron! I couldn't bear losing you. Even the thought…" he carried off, seeming to be lost in a sudden memory that had plagued him.

Darion stomped his foot, his fists now clenched. Alexandros' face returned to his rigid son. "If I die, father, I would rather it be on my feet, standing in defiance against the undead legions! If I die, father, I die with you!"

Tears sprung to Alexandros' eyes. He knelt down in front of his young son, saying "My son, there will come a day when you will command the Ashbringer and, with it, meet justice across this land. I have no doubt that when that day finally comes, you will bring pride to our people and that Lordaeron will be a better place because of you." he said, clapping Darion boldly on the shoulder.

He stood up and shook his head, "But, my son, that day is not today."

Suddenly, a lone, dark figure appeared behind the shades. Moving suddenly through the Highlord's image, dispersing it completely, along with Darion's.

Aydeline gasped aloud as he recognized the figure. But it couldn't be..

"Touching…" the Lich King mused, his wicked blade, Frostmourne, emitting it's wicked aura. Sinister runes glowed vibrantly down the pale, but jagged, blade. Stringy pieces of snowy hair hung down on a hungry face that was twisted in a cruel smirk. His piercing blue eyes were focused on a still kneeling Darion.

Darion surged up suddenly, shaking with anger and he snatched the Ashbringer from the ground. He stared at his master with a burning expression of hate. A small bit of longing still remained on his features, obviously wishing to return to his father's embrace.

"You have forsaken me, monster!" he roared "FACE THE MIGHT OF MOGRAINE!" with this, he launched himself at his puppeteer with blind rage, his blade whistling dangerously towards the Lich King's with inhuman speed. The Lich King merely brought his hand around with even faster speed, slamming a ball of black energy into Darion's chest. The result sent him flying back and caused him to crash into the ground with a defeated thud. The Ashbringer skidded a pace away from Darion.

"Pathetic…" the Lich King spat, turning his attention back to Tirion.

"You're a damned monster, Arthas!" Tirion shouted to the Lich King, his burning gaze not faltering.

The Lich King "You were right, Fordring. I did send them in to die." he said almost sounding regretful, but his expression quickly changed to a sinister smile. "Their lives are meaningless, but yours…" he said, his eyes glowing brightly.

"How simple it was to draw the great Tirion Fordring out of hiding. You've left yourself exposed, paladin." he mused, "Nothing will save you…"

With that, from the Lich King's hands suddenly burst a small green ball at Tirion hitting him squarely in the chest. The ball caused an explosion that hit both him and Aydeline causing them to drop to their knees, gasping for air.

Pain gripped Aydeline, constricting her chest as she lay there in the mud wheezing, all her strength stolen from her weakened limbs.

"ATTACK!" Tyrosus suddenly yelled, a surge of paladins charging towards the Lich King with unwavering courage, ready to defend Tirion with their lives.

The Lich King began casting another spell: a wall of black magic energy sprung up behind him, dark as night with swirling depths that seemed to have no end. The entity castoff bolts of dark energy towards each man that rushed towards the Lich King, swords raised.

"AAAAPPPPOOOOCAAAALYPSEEEE!" he roared, his spells sending every man flying backwards, crashing into the ground unconscious.

Darion suddenly stood up.. Muttering something to himself..

Before finally…

"Tirion!" he yelled, snatching the Ashbringer up and slinging it towards Fordring.

Tirion stood up and caught it deftly, an explosion of golden light bursting over him.

As the light cleared, Tirion stood triumphantly, a golden aura surrounding him. A cleansed and bright Ashbringer thrumming with holy energy lay in his hand.

"ARTHAS!" Tirion yelled, drawing the Lich King's attention as he broke his focus from casting the spell. The wall of oblivion faded into nothing as it's caster's bright eyes widened with apprehension.

"What is this!" he growled in a low raspy tone. His eyes settled with what seemed like fear on the cleansed Ashbringer.

"Your end"

Tirion roared and charged at the Lich King, their blades meeting with a burst of golden light.

The Lich King staggered back, dazed.

He growled and slammed Frostmourne into the ground causing a burst of icy energy to root everyone in their place. Aydeline feebly struggled against the bindings, but to no avail. Tirion merely stood in place and stared at the Lich King with a forever burning gaze.

"Impossible.." The Lich King muttered.

He glanced back at Tirion who was standing feet apart.

"This isn't over" he stated, flicking his hand and causing a portal of dark energy to appear. "When next we it won't be on holy ground, paladin"

And then he was gone.

The ice binding shattered and the men of the Argent Dawn started to cheer, but Tirion silenced them, walking to Aydeline and picking her up with a strong hand.

Aydeline nodded and watched as Tirion now walked over to Darion, who was still kneeling. Whether in defeat or in thought, the half-elf was unsure, but she still observed with interest.

Tirion stopped before him, "Rise Darion and listen…" he turned towards North over the Plaguelands, gazing out towards where Stratholme lay. If one were to be technical, they all looked in the direction of Northrend now.

"We have all been witness to a terrible tragedy." he began. "The blood of good men has been shed upon this soil. Honorable knights slain defending their lives - our lives!" he clenched his fists angrily.

"And while such things can never be forgotten, we must remain vigilant in our cause!" he shouted, turning back to the men. "The Lich King must answer for what he has done and must not be allowed to cause further destruction to our world, I make a promise to you now, brothers and sisters: The Lich King will be defeated!" he shouted.

"On THIS day, I call, for a union!"

"The Argent Dawn and the Order of the Silver Hand will come together as one! We will succeed where so many before us have failed! We will take the fight to Arthas and tear down the walls of Icecrown!" he turned back towards the north, shouting with defiance "The Argent Crusade comes for you, Arthas!" he now returned to his men, "Who will pledge their lives for the cause?" he asked boldly.

Aydeline instantly seized her fallen blade and knelt down, placing her sword before Tirion and saying "I Shall."

Tirion nodded, murmuring something to himself.

Following suit, every single Argent soldier copied Aydeline, dropping to their knees their blades and weapons extended and raised in servitude, a chorus of "I will's and shall's" following. Tirion gazed upon the congregation with a look of immense approval.

Suddenly, Darion spoke up, "So too do us knights" he said, including his fellow exiled comrades. "While our kind has no place in your world, we will fight to bring an end to the Lich King.. This, I vow." he said to Tirion.

From here, the group of motley soldiers, warriors, marksmen, exiles, veterans, men, women and much more looked east towards the rising sun. The battle had extended through out the night. It was a difficult victory, however it was still a win. Many fell content to watch the new dawn break across the sky line. Aydeline found meaning it. So was a new day dawning on Azeroth, as was a new era on this front.

Begun, the war had.

* * *

><p><em>Authors Note:<em>

_This is, indeed, a remake of my story from two years ago. Hope you guys enjoy the better version of it (seeing as I wanted to revamp it and correct mistakes, also make it longer)_

_-Tavin_


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